Destroyer of Light
by Kata Chthonia
Summary: The marriage of Hades and Persephone blossoms and their mysterious grove in the world below thrives… while the sunlit world withers. The newly wed rulers of the dead must reach an accord with Demeter— and come face to face with sacrifice, responsibility, and the balance of power among the gods. Destroyer of Light concludes the story begun in Receiver of Many.
1. Prologue

I took down Receiver of Many for publication last June and split it into two parts. Now the second half of the original is ready for preorder. And better than the version you first read here!

Please enjoy the brand-new Prologue and first three chapters, available here for free! Destroyer of Light will contain new, previously unpublished scenes, and I retooled some of the original text. Given that RoM's original length was over 275,000 words and given that I wrote nine new scenes between the two books, I had to split RoM into two parts: _Receiver of Many_ and _Destroyer of Light_. _**Receiver of Many**_ was published on **September 23, 2015** , and _**Destroyer of Light**_ on will debut on **March 20, 2016**. Both books will be available in trade paperback through Amazon and CreateSpace, and in ebook through Kindle, Nook, iBooks, and Smashwords. For more information, please visit kata-chthonia dot com.

I cannot thank you enough for your support throughout this whole process of publishing this story, and thank you so much for reading!

~ Rachel Alexander, aka Kata Chthonia

—

"Just a little further, my love… a little further." The rabbit pelts bundled around his feet had kept out the snow, but not the cold. The wet leather straps holding those flimsy wrappings around his ankles chafed and bit into his skin.

"Why…"

"There's food ahead in Eleusis," Dimitris said. "Everyone says so."

She stumbled, trying to balance on her own two feet, leaning on her husband to take just one more step. "Everyone?"

"Yes, love," he said gently. "Everyone we've met and all we walk with. We're nearly home. And Eleusis is not far beyond. " More feet crashed through the snow onto their path, a caravan of the starving and sick, bound for the promise of food, praying to all the gods that they'd make it. Dimitris pointed at the shadowy outlines of those around them, some walking faster, driven by hunger or by grief for the dead they had left along their journey. Others trudged slowly across the frozen landscape: those with children, the elderly, the ones refusing to abandon their dead. "Demeter is in Eleusis. There's food there. And so many people."

"You said that about Athens."

"This is different."

She coughed violently and he stopped again, the third time in the last hour. Dimitris stroked Melia's back and held a rag against her mouth to keep her from breathing in the chill air and the blinding flurries of snow. She leaned harder against him, her coughing subsiding. He pursed his lips when he brought the linen away. More bright flecks of blood had joined the ones that had already dried brown. She wheezed, and dropped to one knee. "Dimitris, please. Let's stop. Build a fire."

"We can't," he whispered. "There's no more kindling. And the branches are too green to burn, and frozen through."

"Oil, then," she rasped. "Burn the oil."

"It's the only thing that keeps you from coughing. We shouldn't—"

"There's nothing—" she coughed again. "There's nothing that can stop it. Please. I just want to feel warm. Just once… just once."

Dimitris looked around them for shelter or anything that could stoke a fire. Oil could set a branch or two aflame. They had nearly reached their small farm. Surely these reserves could be spared. He tilted her head up. "Melia, my heart. Look there. You see? You see the grove there?"

"Yes." She smiled for the first time in days. "We were married there."

"Yes, we were." He spoke low and stroked her back as she coughed again. "And I will wager that none of these people know that our grove has scattered kindling. Enough to make a fire. It can't be seen from the road. They would have missed it." He forced a smile.

"Go gather wood there."

"Alone? Melia, it's only half a mile—"

"I can't." She sat still closing her eyes. "I need to rest."

He nodded to her, somewhat relieved. By himself it would take a third the time to collect wood. And with the sun setting, time was in short supply. He wrapped the extra blanket securely around her, and propped her against their meager provisions and belongings. Dimitris kissed her on the forehead. "Stay warm. I'll be right back."

Dimitris struck off from the road, trudging through the drifts and banks. His feet sank through new fallen snow and crunched against the packed ice, the cold biting at his shins. He grabbed the branches above for balance and kept himself from sinking into a fresh drift, then plowed into the center of the grove.

He shook his head. Melia had told him the morning after their wedding that Kore, Demeter's flower-bearing daughter, had been there to bless their union— that she'd felt the young goddess's presence at their ceremony. Dimitris had brushed off her fancies. Why would a goddess pay a visit to two lowly mortals on their wedding day? They weren't kings or queens, and neither of them had divine blood.

He chuckled. Dimitris had always thought Melia was a goddess among women. She always wore flowers in her hair. A daughter from the next farm over, he had known her since childhood, and they had secretly promised themselves to each other in youth. When she came of age, Dimitris had begged his father to speak with hers and make the arrangements, even though he was still too young to marry. The second happiest day of his life had been when Melia's father gave his approval.

It had been sunny the day of their wedding. He still remembered the taste of honey and barley cakes and her soft lips. The day after was eerily calm, and other farmers reported strange fallow spots in their fields. They'd thought nothing of it until the next day, when the sun had disappeared behind clouds, the wind howled, and all the wheat and flowers died.

"If you're there, Maiden, as she thought you were that day, then please…" Dimitris whispered in prayer. "Please… please let us reach Eleusis. I'll sacrifice the rest of our stores. Anything. Please help us. Help her."

Dimitris reached the clearing. The trees above had shielded it from snow drifts and passers by, but the ground was bare. Every piece of fallen wood had been gathered, the shrubs had been uprooted, and even the lower branches of each tree had been hacked away. His prayers were unanswered. The Maiden Kore couldn't hear him anyway. She was in the Land of the Dead. His shoulders dropped. He would return to Melia empty-handed.

There wasn't time to fell any trees. He had to get back to her. He'd carry her on his back if he had to. They only needed to get home. Eleusis could wait. He could tuck Melia into bed, safe from the wailing wind and burn everything they had in the hearth— chairs, tables, linens, and oil. She would be warm while he went to Eleusis to bring her food, and perhaps a healer. Surely there would be one among the throngs that had traveled here. He tripped and fell into a bank, the snow suffocating and wet on his face. He jumped back up and brushed his clothes off before it could melt and chill his bones.

Dimitris reached the road and quickened his pace. A man and his son trudged past him, bound for Eleusis, their bodies cloaked and faces bundled. Through the haze of drifting snow he made out the outline of Melia, her knees huddled against her chest under layers of shawls and blankets, leaning against their packs.

His strides became longer. He would pick her up and carry her. It wasn't far. If the grove was so close, then their home was just beyond the ridge. They needn't build a fire here. They could wait for home. Home…

"Melia!" He called out, waiting for her to turn. She didn't move. "My love, it isn't far. Let's get you up. It's time to go home. Melia?"

She lay still.

"Melia!"


	2. Chapter 1

Indigo was the color of mourning, she thought. Mourning was the unwillingness to accept that the time spent above was a fleeting moment in the journey of the soul from mortal to shade and back again. Hecate pulled the darkly dyed himation tightly around her body. She longed for her familiar crimson, the color of the living, beating heart— and long ago the color of the Olympians' proud banner. She didn't begrudge the mortals their displays of sorrow. They knew no better. Mortals' numbers grew every century, and for many souls these days, this was only their first lifetime; and any that had returned from below remembered nothing that would help them understand the path their soul had walked.

But as for the Goddess who encouraged them to keep their sad vigil… she expected better from her onetime student. Here, indigo meant more than mourning— it represented unmitigated suffering. Desolation. Demeter had isolated herself here at Eleusis, her inconsolable grief threatened to destroy the world, and with it mortals and gods alike. Hecate held a long, four-headed torch in each hand to light her way. The flames guttered in the wind, clinging to the torches and turning ghostly blue every time she passed between buildings.

She hadn't set foot in Eleusis in aeons. She remembered it as a tiny village, all mud huts and warm fleece and scattered grains. The priestesses here once blessed the fields with the tribal lords, praying for the fertile harvest with the ritual rhythm of their bodies, giving of themselves to one another to ensure that their people would not go hungry. Now great houses with cold stone floors stood in place of the earthen homes, and women were shut away indoors to be sold by their menfolk into childbearing as if they were sheep on two legs. Though all the worlds were open to Hecate, it was little wonder that she preferred Chthonia above all others— even when the earth had been warm and green.

She squinted. Wind-borne ice stung her eyes. In the fertile countryside, vestiges of the old ways had remained mere months ago, but the famine and cold had killed off the country folk, the warmth of love matches, and the maidens who would choose their husbands. Desperate and starving, mortal men had scrounged and scraped for the last arable land, and divided the earth, their chattel, and their women among them.

Hecate waited, listening for the sound of the _koudounia_. The veiled girl standing at the door represented Demeter's lost daughter, her bells a promise to the worshippers that Kore would return. The Goddess of the Crossroads thinned her lips. The child was as frail as a baby bird. In six or seven years, as soon as she flowered, her father would sell her off to her new husband— a stranger over twice her age. She shook her head. A little bird girl standing in for the powerful, regal, fearsome Iron Queen of the Underworld. The only being the Keres would obey. Demeter wouldn't even recognize her own daughter were she to walk through the doors of the Telesterion this very moment.

The future, what little she could see of it these days, was awash in pandemonium and forked into infinite paths. Some of them wavered and changed, many more were too terrifying to follow, but Hecate knew one thing for certain— this day was the tipping point. If she failed to convince Demeter to relent…

She wouldn't consider that possibility. She _must_ succeed. The Lady of the Harvest had once been her cherished student. Now she was the only Olympian receiving offerings— powerful beyond her wildest imaginings. Demeter herself might not even realize the extent of that new balance of power, thanks to her isolation. The Goddess of the Harvest would allow no guests from Olympus. Hecate watched initiates file out of the Telesterion, once the home of pastoral King Celeus. He was now her highest servant. Him, and the boy. Hecate looked for Triptolemus, wondering if Demeter's lover was among the crowds exiting the temple. But she only saw women. They were the sole keepers of the food in Eleusis, and in a world where gold could no longer buy grain, these women were the apportioners of all that mattered anymore. _A pity_ , Hecate thought. _You are greater than you ever realized. You could have righted the course for untold generations to come._

As the worshippers filed out one by one, each took a sip from the golden cup held by dark-robed Metaneira, the queen turned priestess, a woman ever grateful to Demeter for saving her sons. Hecate moved to walk past her.

"My child," the mourning woman said, stopping Hecate in her tracks. "I have not seen you before. Are you just arrived today?"

Hecate turned to her. Child. If she were indeed mortal as her appearance suggested, she likely would have a couple small children in tow. In three days, it would be the full moon. Though she was aeons older than even this woman's mistress, today Hecate looked as though she were only twenty. "Yes, my lady. My path has wound through here… many times. But I cannot linger long."

"Please stay. You have come to the right place. All are welcome in the sight of the Queen of the Earth."

"Queen of the Earth." Hecate smirked at the title. "I would see your queen."

"The evening's bread is already broken. The other children of the earth will gladly share theirs with you. You can come back tomorrow for our morning devotional," she said, starting to close the great oak door.

"I do not require bread, priestess. Only a word with your mistress."

Metaneira wrinkled her brow. "That is rather presumptuous of you, girl. To think that the Lady of the Harvest would speak to—"

Hecate let her torches flare hot. For the briefest moment, Metaneira saw in triple: two other faint forms of the one before her held the torches on either side of the woman and faced away— one very young, the other very old. The hood of Hecate's indigo cloak fell back, revealing her otherworldly countenance. Long waves of red hair interwoven with selenite beads gleamed in the torchlight, and a silver moon sat on her forehead. Her expression was calm, but resolute. Hecate watched the mortal woman blink incredulously, thinking that her mind was playing tricks on her. Hecate smiled reassuringly. "Peace, Metaneira, daughter of Polymnia, your eyes do not deceive you," she said in three voices, that of the Maiden, the Woman and the Crone. "I would have you either stand aside, or show me to your queen."

Metaneira swallowed and bowed her head to the unknown goddess. "O-others have come f-from Olympus and our lady has turned them away…"

"I am not from Zeus's court," Hecate said with a single voice, and walked past the frightened mortal. She stopped in the center of the room. The braziers warmed her skin, and she looked around. A great oak throne taller than Thanatos was raised up on a stepped dais at the back of the hall, sheaves of barley and wheat lay all around it. Empty. She waited.

Her awareness spread further than the stone walls of the Telesterion's great hall, and Hecate could sense Demeter. Her former student was happily mating with Triptolemus this very minute. She could sense it just as intuitively as when Aidoneus was with Demeter's daughter. These days, that passing understanding was as common a sensation as breathing. She smiled. They had found joy in each other.

Hecate was also glad that Demeter had found happiness. She sighed, knowing innately that their current activities, though not intentionally, were being practiced in the old way— the goddess and her consort ensuring the fertility of the earth. It was natural for Demeter. Perhaps her newfound love would make this easier. She could only hope that it would soften Demeter's heart enough to hear her words. So few elements were on her side in this…

Finally, a door creaked open behind the throne and out walked the Lady of the Harvest, her face flushed with health and youth. Demeter tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She hid a serene smile and picked up her long indigo skirts, walking toward the center of the room. Suddenly, her face fell and she stood stock still, her eyes wide. She could barely draw in a breath.

"Too many seasons have passed, acolyte."

Demeter clenched her teeth together and rasped. "Get out."

"I think I will remain."

"Of all the beings in this cosmos," Demeter said, her voice shaking as she advanced on Hecate, "there is only _one_ I wish to see less than you!"

"Indeed? Enlighten me."

"You…" she shook her head. "Do you think me an idiot?! You are in league with him! Get out, Hecate. Do not think to show your face here again!"

"Walk with me," she said, holding a torch out for Demeter.

"Are you hard of hearing? I just told you—"

"You certainly did," she said, looking at the vast room and the indigo cloth draped from the rafters. "You've dyed your crimson darkly, I see. No. Abandoned it, I should say."

" _You_ abandoned _me_! You told me to make _my_ choice and—"

"And I ask that of you again. To make a choice."

"To acquiesce," she spat out. "To acquiesce to my daughter's rape!"

Hecate shook her head patiently. "She is Kore no more, but Persephone would not color it thus, nor do I."

"Get out!"

Hecate ignored Demeter and slowly strolled around the room, pausing at the tapestries of the House of Celeus, as though she were admiring their handiwork. "Your roots have taken a firm hold here. The Queen of the Earth, they call you. It would be a shame, Demeter Anesidora," Hecate said, raising her voice almost imperceptibly, "if you were to find the pathway to the rest of the earth choked with thorny brambles. How sad and limited is the existence of the local, rustic god. How long, do you think, before the Eleusinians realize that?"

"You wouldn't dare…"

Hecate stood still, staring placidly at Demeter. Both knew that it could be done. The white witch held dominion over the ether, and could bar Demeter from traveling that path if she willed it. She smiled at her former student and offered the torch again. "Walk with me."

It was more command than request. Demeter roughly grabbed the torch from Hecate's hand. The goddesses made their way to the back of the palace and stepped through the doorway onto the portico. The small garden below was alive, the last place outdoors that grew any food, mercifully shielded from the wind by the amphitheatre of the hills above and shielded from Demeter's wrath by her protection of this village. But the fertile rows of wheat, barley and millet were not Hecate's destination.

"Do you feel it? The cold?"

Demeter didn't answer.

"I thought not. Propitiations come to you now like ants to spilled honey. I would be surprised if any sensation could touch you."

"Why have you come here, Hecate? Why pull me out into the snow?"

"To show you your daughter."

"Kore…" She stiffened. "Did you bring—"

Hecate's silent glare stopped her. She motioned for Demeter to follow her. The hillside was steep, the northern wind growing stronger the higher they climbed. The torches smoldered orange, the barest blue flame flickering at Hecate's bidding.

Demeter recalled the last time Hecate had led her uphill by the light of a long torch, both of them stumbling up a rocky path at twilight to the heights of Olympus. She remembered the low fire Hestia had created with pine, cypress, and oak, shielding any light that might alert their enemies on Mount Othrys of their presence. Hera had nervously looked about and braided a peacock feather into her rich brown tresses. Poseidon had argued tactics with Zeus by the fire. Aidoneus had sat apart from the rest, looking out over Thessaly, blood dried onto the sword he always wore strapped to his back. Some of the rebelling Titans came as well— Tethys, with the split nautilus she would always wear around her neck, and Metis, who had dutifully recorded all with her stylus on the clay tablet that never left her arms. The clever trickster Prometheus and his hot-tempered brother Epimetheus were there that night.

The night she conceived Kore.

Demeter followed Hecate up the hill, the waxing moon lighting the wide bay and mountains. She heard a groan coming from the south, and for the first time saw blocks of ice scattered across the water, cracking and grinding against each other, the sea rolling beneath them. She pursed her lips. It served Poseidon right for how cruelly he'd mocked her.

"What do you see?"

"Eleusis and the sea," Demeter said, frustrated, the wind biting through her clothes.

"Look again. Northward."

"Hills. You said you would show me my daughter! Where is she?"

"You glance with you eyes. Look. As I taught you how to look."

Demeter scowled, then acceded, closing her eyes and facing north, the wind whipping the veil back from her diadem. North, across the hills and beyond. And further still, until the north abruptly stopped, replaced by a great blanket of ice, fathoms higher than mountaintops, crushing all in its path.

"Now do you see? How it crawls closer? The wall of ice descends from Hyperborea. It's not far; it has advanced even further from its icy den than when your father wore his crown."

"What has this to do with me?"

"Everything."

"None of this is my—"

"Everything," Hecate repeated. "The world dies beneath the ice, and the mortals will die before then, and the gods themselves _end_ if you don't stop this, Demeter. The frozen maw that swallows mountains will not spare your worshippers. More ice rises from below the Heliades, a southern beast no less ravenous. And when they meet, it will end us all. But we will not see that day, for before it dawns, the chains of the new order that bind the Titans to Tartarus will be broken, and all we have made will be undone. _Worse_ than undone. Every tree we grew from a seed will be uprooted, shattered, burned, the ashes scattered and the ground salted. What they will do to your daughter, the Queen—"

"This is Hades's fault!" she snapped. "If he hadn't stolen Kore—"

"You swore on the Styx, Demeter. Long ago. There was no theft, no violation, and they are husband and wife now. Children separate from their mothers. They find their mates. It is the way it has always been done. So will it always be."

"Oh yes, Hecate, her _mate,_ surely," Demeter scoffed. "Which is why he had to burst out of the earth and drag her screaming into the depths. I spoke to Helios! He saw it happen."

Hecate's serene, placid gaze jarred for a moment, her lips set firmly. "You know better than I what inspired that haste. You know what bitter fruits his complacency would have borne."

Demeter paled, preparing to deny it, then realized it would be futile. "I… I could have never gone through with it. I would have found something temporary. Something—" Her eyes stung.

"Something that would _still_ allow you to break the sacred oath you swore on the Mother River?"

She turned away from her former priestess, tears blurring her vision, freezing on her cheek in the wind. "It was different, then. I made that oath when I thought my daughter would grow up to at least be the queen of the earth or the seas, if not Queen of Heaven. I didn't make it to condemn her to the grave!"

"That was never for you to decide; the Fates wove that pattern. And now your whim is to heave us into peril once again."

"You told me to make a choice, and I made it."

"Careless planting delivers a poor harvest."

"What do you mean? We won the war. I did my duty. _You_ didn't approve of my choices and _you_ abandoned me to utter powerlessness and ruin after that night."

"We took the field that day. But we lost the war. Our king who now sits Olympus follows his father's crooked road more closely than most would admit, and he allows those same scales that tipped during the rule of the Tyrant to lean further askew. You remember my lessons: its imbalance will one day finish us all. Now little more than an aeon remains."

"The future is not fixed. You, Gaia, Nyx… none of you know that for certain."

"Look around you, Goddess of the _Fruitful_ Earth. Look and _see_. Many more women than men make their new homes on Other Side. Though wars end many young men, more and yet more women die at their husband's hands, and are met by infant girls left to the elements, while those still alive are kept in ignorance and slavery. Worse awaits those who choose otherwise. Half a century ago, an Athenian woman practiced my ways, as mortals may: she midwifed and used herbs. First came the ugly rumors, then they called her a witch, and then they stoned her. Then they stoned her friends, and they stoned her young sister. Then the mob turned on her sickly mother, and drove her into the wilderness."

"So what if a few of your worshippers died? You're not alone in this. All mortals die."

"Is it to be that every woman who refuses to marry, or who wishes to learn, who has the sight, who has a free spirit and a free heart should be put to death? That is where our guiding star leads. The _hieros gamos_ that night on Olympus was bound to the decision of the Fates. Your tyrant father threw the cosmos into peril, and you were one of the instruments by which the balance could be restored. You knew your duties and knew how the Fates had called upon you."

"I chose the man I loved! The _right_ man to rule the gods."

"Bad planting, bad fruits. I say now as then, you chose poorly. Ruled only by passion. And see where you lie now. Hmm? Is he yours still?"

"So you disowned me, abandoned me, because I chose differently? I did everything you asked of me! Your words to me that night were to 'listen to my heart and let it make my choice for me.'"

"Would that I could have spoken more carefully."

"You once called me _daughter_ and yet you left me alone in this world— wholly reliant on Zeus while I grew with child. You would not speak with me, Gaia would not help me, what would you have had me do?!"

"If you had made the choice I laid out for you…"

Demeter looked away in disgust.

"…You would be Queen of Heaven even now. And he, according to his birthright—"

"I could just as soon have fallen in love with a stone!" Demeter yelled over the wind. It howled past them, the sea shimmering with new ice.

"Love was not my request. I offered you a way to sway the will of the Fates, asked you to do that for all of us. Love would have come in time."

"Why him?! Why has he been your _obsession_ all these aeons?!" Tears clouded her eyes and for a moment she was back on Olympus the morning after the _hieros gamos_. Hecate's voice filled Demeter with guilt, the new and pleasant ache between her legs turning painful, shameful at her words. "What is your sick fascination with him, Hecate? Aidon was always, _always_ your favorite! I sacrificed everything to be your acolyte and you _still_ loved him more! I wonder sometimes, _priestess_ , why you never broke your vows of chastity to have him for yourself!"

"Because he is my son." Hecate glared at her, her voice trembling. "We share no blood, certainly, but our spirits are true kin."

Demeter rolled her eyes. "Why did you even take a vow of chastity to begin with? You have tried in vain your whole life to create your own twisted version of a real family. To mother children you can't possibly have…"

She ignored the slight. It was a different time at the beginning of Kronos's reign: take the vow or be forced into a marriage— or worse— to one of the Titans. "Though you see Aidoneus as a crude and ugly statue, your daughter has found warmth behind his stony visage." Demeter looked up at this, her eyes wide. Hecate smiled knowingly. "Is it impossible for you to believe that she has fallen in love with him?"

"You lie," Demeter said quietly. "I know my own daughter. In all the cosmos there is no one more opposite her than Hades."

"Perhaps that is their greatest strength." Hecate smiled for a moment. "I told you I would show her to you, did I not?"

Demeter clenched her jaw shut. "Where is she?"

Hecate pulled a single bead of selenite from her hair and held it up. It shone in the light of the waxing moon, taking on a glow of its own as Hecate took her hand away. The bead sat suspended in mid air, then flattened and expanded. A perfect reflection of the two goddesses appeared on either side of it before their visages faded in ripples of silver and crimson. A window through the ether was created in their wake. A scrying mirror.

"Ask of it," Hecate said. "In the way I taught you. Tell it what you desire to see, so you may have no doubt of what it has to show you. So you know this is not one of my witch's tricks."

Demeter closed her eyes and thought about her lost daughter. When she opened them, she saw her Kore's face up close, a large male hand covering her eyes. Kore's lips were parted. She hadn't seen her daughter in almost two months. Demeter sputtered a short cry, her eyes burning. She wished she could reach through the mirror and pull her girl back into the land of the living, or let her know that it was all right, that she was doing all she could to rescue her from the grave, even if it took letting Zeus's worshippers die of starvation until the King of the Gods acted.

Hades's fingers wrapped around Kore's eyes, blinding her, pinioning her back against him. Demeter took a sharp breath as she saw the Dark Lord's lips whispering close to her daughter's ear, words she couldn't distinguish, the mirror silent. Hesitantly, she willed the scene to pull back so she could see more. Black marble and malachite. Though she'd never visited, she guessed that they were in his dreary palace. Kore was clothed in a long white peplos, its borders burgundy. Heavy jewels adorned her neck and the fibulae that held up her dress.

His other hand gripped her arm, leading her forward, blind. What was he doing with her? She felt angry bile well up in her throat as two of his fingers unwound from Persephone's arm and deliberately brushed against the side of her breast. They walked forward together. Her daughter said something that looked like 'where are we?', but the image wavered, and Demeter couldn't be sure. Hades's mouth twisted upward unnaturally and he lifted his hands, taking a step back. Kore blinked a few times before her eyes grew wide and she drew in a sharp breath, startling Demeter.

She watched her daughter run from his side and bound up the stairs of a dais. Hades stood back and admired her, watching her reaction. Was he smiling? Her daughter ran her hands along the arm of a wrought iron throne, an airy filigree in the shape of hundreds of hateful asphodel, equal in height and stature to the austere ebony throne beside it. She sat down and looked back at Hades, kicking her feet underneath her like a child on a swing. Persephone stood up and ran back toward him, then jumped from the second step, throwing her arms and legs around Aidoneus and nearly knocking him off his feet. His face was almost as shocked as Demeter's, but while she fumed, Aidon's mouth turned up into a surprised smile and his hands came up to hold her.

She watched her daughter kiss him, and saw his eyes close as he brought her deeper into their kiss. He pulled back and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, twirling her around, her legs flying out away from where he spun her. Was he laughing? Aidon was laughing. _Kore_ was laughing with him. Hades carried her back up the steps, her limbs still awkwardly wrapped around him, and plunked her down on her throne. He took his seat beside her, and they both leaned over to kiss once more. Persephone whispered something in his ear that made his eyes widen before he turned toward her with a surprised, then lascivious grin. He slowly rose, and she rose with him. He pulled her into his embrace, both standing on the wide dais holding each other, their mouths heatedly locked together, his hands everywhere on her, her hands trailing down his chest and stomach, reaching for…

"Enough!" Demeter cried. The scrying mirror broke into thousands of pieces, showering down between her and Hecate, the glittering fragments lost in the snow.

"Your own eyes tell you—"

"Lies!" Demeter shouted. "That was no Aidoneus I have _ever_ seen!"

"No, indeed," Hecate said with a smile. "A rather good thing, wouldn't you agree?"

"You _conjured_ that vision. I knew him better than any of the other Olympians. That was _not him!_ "

"I no more conjured it than you conjured the walls of ice. You know this."

"If the sorcery isn't yours, then it's his! He has trapped her down there so long that the smallest kindness, the _tiniest_ grain of affection would draw her into his arms. He abducted and _raped_ her; he convinced her that she is bound to him as wife and that he loves her. Once she finally gave in and accepted his prison fantasy, even the tiniest grain of tenderness he could muster would convince her to do anything he wanted!"

Hecate stood silently and listened. _Please let this be the end of your grief_ , she prayed. _Please, kindly Fates, great Chaos, lead her into acceptance. Please…_

"And maybe, just maybe, the pure goodness that radiates from Kore was enough to soften him ever so slightly. But if you expect me to believe that he has become smiling and gentle after such a short time, you must think me the greatest of fools. We're the deathless ones. We're aeons old, teacher, and we don't change for _anything_. I know Aidoneus. I know him _far_ better than you do— than you _ever_ will. You forget, _priestess_ , that I was imprisoned with him inside Kronos for aeons, and Aidon is, through and through, his father's son!"

"He loves her and she loves him. Please see what is so plainly in front of your eyes, Demeter."

"Hades isn't capable of love; he never has been, he never will be. He only knows violence and death! He's a blood-soaked murderer who _reveled_ in exacting his vengeance on anyone in the way of his sword. Don't you remember?! He came back _every night_ covered in gore, invigorated by the killing. Zeus and Poseidon didn't!"

"He bloodied his sword so that we might survive. He did it for all of us. And for you in particular."

"No. He _enjoyed_ it. During the war, Hestia and I were cornered by a demon of Echidna, and Hades came to our aid. He appeared out of the ether before us and skewered its head on his blade, killing it instantly. But oh no, that wasn't enough for him. He hacked away at it even after it was dead, yelling as he did, stroke after stroke, spattering us with fetid blood, with this _look_ in his eyes. And when the Keres came and wrested the demon's spirit away to Tartarus, Aidoneus smiled. It was the one time I ever saw him do so. And thanks to you, Hecate, he has… has corrupted… and destroyed my daughter," she said, shaking. Demeter turned away, her last words sputtered through tears.

She wouldn't let Hecate see them. But the Goddess of the Crossroads felt them. Anyone could. She let Demeter cry, then took a step forward and placed a hand on her back. "Child…"

Demeter turned to her, tears wet on her reddened cheeks.

"Daughter…" Hecate stroked her arm. "You can make this right. But you must let go. This is not a war; there is no defeat, no cause for shame. She will still see you, and you her. They asked me to be their voice, and in return I will also speak for you. Ask it of me and I will entreat Persephone to walk the world above with you. As often as you wish it. You would be welcome in her realm— to see her, and to know the truth of her marriage."

"I don't believe you," she said, wiping away her tears with a sleeve. "How can I? You come here to shame me for what I've been _forced_ to do to have even a chance at getting Kore back, to mock my grief as foolishness, then try to soften my heart, as if I should just forget all the aeons you forsook me."

"How should I apologize first, Demeter? For leaving you to Zeus, after you chose him? If that will right this, I will fall to my knees this instant and ask your forgiveness."

"As patronizing as you always were, Hecate…"

"It was never my intention."

"What of the Eleusinians? They _need_ her now, and nothing short of her return will suffice." She thought about Metaneira and Celeus, Demophon and Triptolemus. The deaths of her lover's sisters would be in vain. Demeter imagined Triptolemus accusing her of betrayal, spitting on her and cursing her name. She would be cast out from her own temple. The worshippers she had garnered throughout the winter would despise her, burn everything down, smash her altars. The rest of the Olympians would shun her and never come to her aid again if she relented now; not after this. She would be an outcast among men and gods.

It was too late. Demeter looked at the groaning floes of ice that covered the sea. Poseidon might be angered enough that he would make good on his abominable suggestion and force himself upon her in the vilest way imaginable. And after all she'd done to weaken the rest of Olympus, the others would only be too glad to stand by and watch.

"Let us protect you," Hecate said, reading her thoughts. "If it is the vengeful storm of sky and sea that you fear, then ally yourself with us; with your daughter who loves you. You are the goddess of all that grows upon the earth, and those who dwell beneath it would welcome you with open arms."

"I will _not_ accept exile! To become yours and Nyx's docile pet as my influence dwindles to that of a nymph? The Eleusinians—"

"Your mind buzzes about this village like an insistent fly! Your _accomplished_ lover and his family are here, but what of the rest of humanity who you starve and freeze?"

Demeter's breath halted at the word _lover_. Then she bit at the side of her cheek. Of course Hecate would know that. Hecate knew everything, she thought angrily. "I leave Zeus's followers to Zeus. Whoever wishes to come to me is welcome. I welcome all at Eleusis, slave and freeborn."

Hecate slitted her eyes. "So your precious Kore is not at the heart of this. This is about your power. Your pride…"

"This is _entirely_ about Kore. She was taken unwillingly. Stolen from me. And you dare speak of power? Hypocrisy! A trade was done between kings— between two of the three who divided creation itself— with no regard for her or for me. Do you think when I made that oath at the Styx I would have been _allowed_ to say no? To the likes of Zeus and Aidoneus? My daughter was bartered like chattel before she even came into the world and sold off to a man twice her age! I thought you were against that on principle!"

Hecate sighed and bit at her own cheek. Demeter was right, in that at least. "What is time like that to beings like us? What was done is done. Would you have me remake her maidenhead? Uproot her blossoming love for Aidoneus? Slip her a dram of the Lethe and make her forget she is a venerated and powerful Queen? These are things that will not happen." Hecate paused, taking a slow, even breath. "But I am endowed by Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, and Aidoneus, her divine Consort, with the ability to grant your desire. Name what you will, Demeter, and I will do my utmost to make it so."

For the briefest moment, she considered it. Then she weighed it against the scar in the field of Nysa where Hades had violently ripped her daughter from the world above. She thought about Kore's stolen innocence, and her unfeeling, blood-soaked adversary in his dead kingdom. She thought about the borrowed helm and the bargain she was forced into once her plan to win back her love went awry. She thought about the Eleusinians. Celeus. Triptolemus. Metaneira. All she had done, all the death and destruction, in vain. Demeter stiffened and stood tall. "Annul the marriage. Bring her back to me. I will accept nothing less."

"Demeter—"

" _Nothing less!_ "

Hecate stared at Demeter for a long moment. She finally stepped back and shook her head. "I tried, Nyx."

She vanished and Demeter was alone again. The torches held by her former priestess, her teacher, the closest thing she'd ever had to a mother, lay in the snow, crossed over one another, their lit ends burning out. As wisps of smoke rose from the extinguished pitch, Demeter heard Hecate's voice on the wind.

 _I tried._


	3. Chapter 2

"Careful!"

Persephone smiled. "Pay him no mind."

Merope dipped the comb in olive oil again, cautiously pulling it through Aidon's hair. "Beg pardon milord, but if your purpose in judging kings is to meet them as a king yourself and dispel whatever hubris they still have, it might serve to look as they look. All the Peloponnesian kings wear their hair pulled back this way. If they haven't cropped it at the neck, that is."

Aidon pursed his lips.

"Would you rather I cut it all off?" Merope asked.

He tightened his jaw and turned sharply, giving her a withering glance.

Persephone laughed, and Merope suppressed a smile. The nymph shrugged innocently. She yanked the comb through another unruly curl, and he growled. "They know who I am. I don't see why this is needed."

"Then why I am I wearing _these_?" Persephone said. Merope had woven rubies into her hair amidst the asphodel, and the weight of the jewels and her pinned-up hair strained her neck. Merope paused, unsure whether she should continue.

Aidoneus relaxed his shoulders and motioned for her to resume. "Forgive my obstinacy, Merope. We've never had a servant before."

The nymph tied back his hair with a gold band and braided his hair. "You needn't apologize. You've dressed for judgment many times since I've been your wife's maidservant without my assistance. What's the occasion? Are you seeing someone important today? A demigod, perhaps?"

Hades and Persephone glanced at one another, unsure how to answer. Neither wanted Merope to know who would be coming before them today. Her nightmares had subsided, and she could sleep through the night without Hypnos's poppies, but even so, she'd awoken half the palace earlier that week with a scream.

Aidon refused to cause her further pain. He forced a smile. "It is my queen's first time sitting the throne with me for judgment."

"A special occasion, indeed," Merope said, looping sinew and gold thread tightly around his last few braids.

"And as such," Aidon said, standing up from the chair, "one must look the part." He fastened a gold torc around his neck. His normally gray himation was deep black and bordered in a thick meandros of gold. The same pattern was etched into the wide golden bands that he wrapped around his biceps. Merope helped fasten smaller versions of those bands onto the arms of his wife.

"I hope you'll tell me how it went."

Aidon's eyes met Persephone's again, his expression set tightly. She tilted her head at him and he softened, nodding his approval.

"I will, Merope," she said. They would have to tell her at some time. And it would be easier when Sisyphus was in Tartarus— once justice had been done.

Persephone stood in front of the mirror, hair glimmering with jewels, a noble compliment to her dark-haired husband. She looked every bit the wife of Hades Plouton, the Rich One Beneath the Earth. Merope picked up a heavy apron of gold, fire opal, garnets, and rubies, and fastened it over Persephone's black dress. She clipped it together at Persephone's neck, then fastened it at her waist. Jewels cascaded from collarbone to ankles. The girl that was Kore chafed under their weight. Kore no more. She shared a bed with the Receiver of Many. She had walked the Fields of Asphodel and weathered Tartarus itself. She was Persephone, Queen of the Underworld.

Hades and Persephone Chthonios sat in their thrones, receiving the dead one by one. Rhadamanthys stood at the door, allowing kings, archons, and magistrates to enter, one at a time. Minos sat below the dais on their right side at an ebony table, a scroll laid out before him, carefully recording all he heard and saw onto the parchment. The judges had never seen so many in one sitting, and all were anxious to receive their final 'guest', the king of Ephyra. Aidoneus held his raven-crested staff in his right hand.

Two departed leaders, an archon and a magistrate of Athens, had stood before them earlier in the day. Both were well educated and spoke to Hades and Persephone in their own tongue— the divine language of the Theoi. Early in his career, the archon had accepted a substantial bribe; the magistrate had fathered a child out of wedlock and had hid the girl from his wife, but had provided for her and the mother until his death. For their sins, both were terrified of being condemned to Tartarus. But they had otherwise lived good lives, for the most part.

The archon had fallen to his knees, begging for mercy until Aidoneus shook his head and bid him stand and not fear him. Persephone noticed that her husband's judgment was almost conversational, asking after the men's families and relaying to them the details of their own lives, and how their livings acts had influenced his judgment. Each guest was thrown off guard, expecting a catalog of sins to be read aloud and thus condemn them. At the end of each judgment, Aidoneus pronounced that the archon and the magistrate were free to drink the waters of the Lethe and join the souls in Asphodel, giving them the chance to return to the world of the living once they were ready.

"How do you know?" she had asked under her breath as the magistrate departed.

"They are part of this realm from the moment they arrive. I can see into their hearts," he replied, grasping her hand. The rings of the Key of Hades glinted off his fingers in the muted light of the throne room. "I see in each of them _what_ was done, but I speak with them to know _how_ it was done. A king is just a man, and kings go to war. They kill and decide to kill others. If a man has ended someone's life, even if he is using another's sword, I want to know why."

"What happens to most?"

"Asphodel. Once they drink from the Lethe, they are no longer kings and queens. They are just shades in my kingdom. Most are brought before me knowing exactly what they did. Their perceived sins make a prison for them in life and they come here terrified that I will send them to Tartarus. But all men err, some more than others. Our responsibility," he said, gripping her hand and turning to face her again, "is to determine whether or not they have learned from those mistakes within their lifetime."

She smiled at him. He returned it, then turned solemn once more and stared forward.

"I don't care what power or wealth they had in life. They can't take it with them, though many think they can. They think it will sway me, somehow. Mortals and immortals alike say many things about me in the world above. But my reputation for being inexorable is well earned."

Persephone smiled wryly. Draped down the front of her clothes were more jewels than the oldest, richest dynasty could hope to acquire in all its generations, much less a single mortal in a short lifetime. Any one of the rubies in her hair could ransom a princess.

Minos stood up and nodded in a cursory bow to the royal couple. "Your Excellencies, there is one more to be judged before we bring in the Ephyrean," he said. Minos refused to even breathe Sisyphus's name. His shame at his mistake with Merope was too great. Aidoneus had made the same error and had quickly forgiven Minos and Rhadamanthys, but the Mycenaean brothers still held onto their guilt at recommending an innocent soul for Tartarus.

"Who is it?"

"King Hebros of Thrace."

Aidoneus sat back on his throne. Hebros, son of Heamus, whose parents were turned into two Dacian mountain ranges after daring to compare themselves to Zeus and Hera. He sighed. "Send him in."

Rhadamanthys opened the door and a man entered, his himation plain and black like all the others. But Hebros's arms were covered in the ink markings of his people— a dark pattern of horses and sunbursts. His hair was a mass of auburn curls with streaks of gray at his temples.

" _Hebros. Zin na Heamus i Rhodope od dieza na Thrakos. Nositel na alopekis na mezenai zibythides_ ," Aidoneus said, continuing in Thracian, " _You died three days ago when you rode your horse across a frozen lake. The ice broke underneath you, no?_ "

Persephone listened to him speak in perfect Thracian. The language, hard on her ears, rolled smoothly off his tongue, as if he spoke this way every day. Her heart beat a little faster, listening to the calm baritone of his voice. The words were unknown to her, and the only clues she had as to what he was saying were the reactions of the Thracian king.

" _Hades i Despoina, zibythides_ ," he said, falling onto his knees, his forehead touching the cold stone floor. Despoina. That was the name the fisherfolk on the outskirts of Hellas had called her when she was Kore. Her husband's head shook and he raised his hand to stop him.

" _Ne, ne. Tya ne e Despoina. Tya e Persephone_ ," Aidoneus corrected him, " _My beloved wife and your queen now that you are here as our guest._ "

" _Forgive me, my lord,_ " he replied in Thracian, cowering before the dais.

" _Think nothing of it. Stand_ ," he said, waiting for the Thracian king to rise. " _How is your queen, Hebros_?"

" _Pardon me, my lord?_ "

" _Your queen. The Dacian woman. What is her name? Nevena?_ "

" _Yes._ "

Aidoneus leaned back on his throne. " _You took her from her father's family… unwillingly?_ "

" _Nevena was promised at birth to me by her father's father. Therefore she was mine._ "

" _How did she come to your marriage bed? Did she desire to do so?_ "

" _Does it matter? She was my woman! They should come to the marriage bed whether they are willing or not. The gods decree—_ "

" _I am the only god you need answer to anymore,_ " he interrupted darkly.

Persephone watched the Thracian's face go pale, his feet shifting under him. She stared straight forward, a flutter forming in her stomach, feeling the respect and power her husband commanded here. She wanted to look at him— to look at the face that she loved so well— but remained poised, eyes fixed forward, remembering that her presence here meant they were speaking and passing judgment as one. She felt Aidon's hand cover hers as he ran a finger over her upturned wrist. His touch sent a shiver up her spine and reminded her of the vision from Tartarus— the two deities enthroned, and life swelling within her. She tamped the thought down. Hecate would return soon. She would speak to her about that then.

" _Yes, forgive me_ ," he said, bowing once more, " _Our people made our due sacrifices to you, Lord Hades._ "

" _And if you had made more or made fewer it still would not sway me. Perhaps you didn't understand my question. Did you, Hebros, rape your wife and then make war on the Dacians, her people?_ "

Hebros stood shocked, his mouth open, a nervous smile curling his lip. " _My lord, surely you must know… the Dacians… they're barbarian sheep fuckers that worship wolves. They raided our lands from the mountains and… and…_ "

" _Go on…_ "

" _I… I did it to stop the raids._ "

" _Did you, now… Couldn't you could have sent just a few of your forces to patrol the borders instead of sending your armies to pillage the city of Arcideua and burn it to the ground?_ "

Hebros was stunned, his mouth hanging open as he took a step back and looked at Minos, his eyes cast down to the scroll, transcribing Hades's words. He darted a glance at Persephone, her face cold and serene as the Lord of Souls languidly stroked her wrist. They were implacable; unmovable. King Hebros fell to his knees and wept, extending his clasped hands in the air toward them. " _Please, please, your Excellencies, do not send me to Tartarus! Yes; I took my wife against her will, and I shouldn't have, I knew I shouldn't have the moment I looked down at her face. She was crying for me to stop. It was three years after our wedding night before she would even speak to me!_ "

Hades raise his eyebrows at that and shifted in his seat. " _What changed?_ "

" _Our son— Ardeskos. We both loved our son. I apologized to her for his sake so we could be a family. I was faithful to Nevena. I grew to love her. And in time, she forgave me and loved me as well. I would do anything for her, and turned my armies around after Arcideua to come home by her request, with no further burning or rapine, not even on the way back. But I'd beaten the war drum too loudly before we left. I couldn't tell my men that turning back was my wife's decision! They would think I was weak and soft. Any of my rivals would have murdered me, then Nevena, then our son! I'm begging you—_ "

" _Save your pleas. I'm not sending you to Tartarus. You did what you thought was right. What your father taught you, and his father before him. But Arcideua did not deserve your wrath, no matter how much your wife's father insulted you or raided your lands._ "

" _Am I to go to… Asphodel?_ "

" _No._ "

" _B-but…_ "

Since she could not understand his words, Aidoneus tapped her on the hand, signaling that it was time for them to stand in judgment. They rose in unison before he spoke again. " _Hebros, son of Heamus and Rhodope, you will not be given the water of the Lethe. Instead, you will stare into the Cocytus until you understand the pain you caused others in your mortal life. We will see you again in one century to determine if you have learned enough to peacefully join the other souls in Asphodel._ "

The Thracian looked up at Aidoneus, tears staining his face. " _I will have another chance?_ "

" _Yes. Now go. Aeacus will show you the way_ ," Hades said. Rhadamanthys opened the door once more.

" _Thank you, my lord! You are merciful and just._ "

Persephone waited until the Thracian king was led away. She watched him pull his black himation over his head, using it as a cloak before the door shut behind him. Minos wound black ribbon around King Hebros's scroll and secured it with a gold clasp. The three-headed image of Cerberus sealed its contents, to be opened again when the Thracian returned to this room in one hundred years. He set the parchment aside with the others.

Her husband sat beside her and took a deep breath. She laced her fingers within his. "You spoke in his own language."

"It only seems fair…"

"Oh, I agree," she said. "But… you can speak Thracian as well as the king of Thrace. How many languages do you speak?"

"All of them," Aidon replied, turning to her.

She drew her hand away and looked at him in surprise.

"I've had an eternity to study, and learned the languages of the mortals from the shades themselves. It's fascinating— they keep changing as the centuries go by. You too will learn them all, one day."

"But I can't hear the dead once they've drunk the waters of the Lethe. Only you can."

He contemplated that for a moment. Aidoneus had possessed the Key for almost as long as mortals had been coming to and from the Underworld, and couldn't imagine what overwhelming silence Asphodel must be for her. "Perhaps you'll let me teach you myself, then."

"You would have to, if you want me to sit at judgment with you."

"Yes, I suppose. Sadly, I cannot read or write as many languages as I speak," he said, his admission surprising her again. "The writing of Hellas is all I've been able to learn."

Persephone smiled at him. "I can only read a few words, mostly what mortals write on the sides of temples. Which reminds me— what are those strange symbols written on the floor in our antechamber?"

"Minoan," he said. "The words themselves are just labels on the map. Few in the world above can write in that ancient tongue anymore. Minoan is also the language the Keres use to call you their Queen." Persephone recalled a painting she'd seen in Knossos, the ruined capital of the old empire on Crete, when her mother had fled with her from Attica's bitter war. She had seen those symbols there, but had thought they were only crudely scrawled pictures of animals and tridents, flowers and birds. She remembered her mother pulling her away from statues of proud and tall bare-breasted goddesses and queens; her favorite had gray-blue eyes and long skirts, and held snakes aloft in each hand. She remembered paintings of men with linen wraps around their waists, trimmed beards on their chins and long dark hair pulled back from their faces.

"Perhaps you can teach me to read it one day?"

"I'd be delighted. And maybe we can learn more together. There are people outside of Hellas who have written down all sorts of things I want to read." Aidoneus felt a corner of his mouth twist into a smile. "I'm glad you want to learn."

"Well, I liked listening to you speak in Thracian."

He looked straight forward, speaking under his breath to Persephone. "I thought you didn't understand Thracian."

"It was the sound of you speaking; the way it made me feel."

"And how is that?"

"Aroused," she said with a serene face, and glanced down to see his knuckles turn white on the arms of his throne. He bowed his back ever so slightly and drew in a long breath.

"When I speak in a foreign tongue?"

"Yes," she said with a hint of a smile.

"Well then, my queen… it seems there are all sorts of things I can do with my tongue that please you," he crooned, glancing out of the corner of his eye and smiling while she tried in vain to sit still, her thighs squirming together. He laced his fingers with hers and stroked her palm with his thumb. Aidon turned and studied her. "Do you know any languages besides our own? Any place we can start?"

"I speak the language of Attica, but not perfectly," she said, turning her head only slightly so she could see his eyes. "You'll have to go very slowly with me." She watched him bite down hard on the corner of his mouth and shift in his seat when he caught her double meaning.

"Gladly," he said, leaning toward her. "And what would you like me to say?"

"You could… tell me what you're thinking about right now," she said. Her stomach fluttered at just how dangerous that request was, so soon after teasing him. Aidoneus leaned over and cupped his hand to her ear. His breath tickled her neck.

" _Se skeftomai sinehia. Se thelo, glykia mou… agapimeni mou… gynaika mou_ ," he whispered in her ear, " _Meta to souroupo, otan kanoume erota… otan eimai mesa sou_ , maybe then, I can tell you… in detail… what I'm thinking about right now. All though I'm sure my actions will make it evident…"

Fire bloomed within her and she gripped his hand tighter, hoping that Minos didn't hear her shortened breath. She looked straight ahead trying to maintain her composure, then shivered as he inhaled sharply next to her ear.

He caught the scent of roses on her skin and smiled before sitting back on his throne and speaking low once more. "Trust me, my love. Right now, my thoughts are not appropriate for mixed company."

Persephone thought about what she was going to do to him tonight for teasing her like this at her first judgment hearing, and knew that he was likely thinking the same. Their passions calmed, and they resumed the appearance of a king steadfastly holding his queen's hand while the room was at recess before their final hearing.

Rhadamanthys cleared his throat, drawing the attention of Hades and Persephone back to the door. "Your Excellencies, do you wish for Hypnos and Thanatos to bring forth the Ephyrean?"

Aidoneus turned to his wife. "I will help you, but he is all yours."

"Are you sure?"

"You questioned Merope; not I. You sent Thanatos and Hypnos after Sisyphus. Her testimony is instrumental in the judgment we will pass on him today. You _must_ take the lead."

"But I can't hear his thoughts," she said.

"Leave that to me, my love. I am right here with you," he said, squeezing her hand.

Persephone faced the door. "Rhadamanthys, please send him in."

"Yes, my queen."

The door opened loudly, the ebony frame swinging wide. Rhadamanthys pushed open the second door, allowing Thanatos and Hypnos to escort the accused king into the throne room. After roughly releasing his arms, Death and Sleep stood on either side of Sisyphus. His hands were bound in front of him with iron manacles. A length of heavy chain, crafted to hold back the Titans, hung from his wrists. It scraped loudly across the floor.

Persephone narrowed her eyes at Sisyphus. His features were noble, like all the members of the House of Aeolus, with piercing blue eyes and gold-flecked dark hair. His shoulders were broad, but his legs were slightly short for his frame, as if he were somehow meant to be taller. Though he had seen at least forty five years, his features were unnaturally youthful and magnetic— a convenient side effect of his sorcery. Only the darkened circles under his eyes disrupted the glamour of youth about him.

"Sisyphus," Persephone began. "Born Aeolides, son of Aeolus and Enarete, Prince of Thessaly and King of Eph—"

Her words were interrupted by low laughter from Sisyphus and she pursed her lips together, struggling to not react or be intimidated by this creature. She could feel rage and fire emanate from Aidoneus, but intuitively knew that his face was unchanged. She did her best to copy her husband, listening to the iron Chains of Tartarus rattle as the mortal king brought both bound hands up and pointedly wiped a tear from his eye.

"Hades, honestly," he guffawed, "is this your way of putting me in my place? To have your sweet little arm decoration punish me instead of dealing with me yourself? Or are you hiding behind her because the father and king of the new gods stands before you?"

Aidoneus felt a smile tease the corner of his mouth as he shifted on his throne and sighed. Neutrality aside, he would enjoy seeing Sisyphus punished. Without turning, he spoke to Persephone. "This one before us is a mortal man of Thessaly; a charlatan. A master of sleight of hand who calls himself a sorcerer—"

"Actually, I like to think of myself as a philosopher king," Sisyphus interrupted. "Not unlike yourself, Hades. In truth, I'm glad Thanatos found me. I've never spoken with you before. I know the other immortals quite well; I even took a nymph as my consort as Poseidon did. But I've only ever heard you spoken of in hateful, hushed tones. Even the gods are loathe to speak your name above ground. Which makes me curious. Why have you never risen against the tyranny of Zeus and claimed your birthright as the King of the Gods?"

"Forgive me, my lord," Thanatos said, pushing at Sisyphus's shoulder. "I forgot to mention that this one does not shut up. Ever."

Sisyphus glared back at Thanatos and gave him a wolfish smirk before facing the thrones again. "Also, Hades— by your own laws, Thanatos had no right to take me. All of you know that I was not properly buried by my family, nor did I pay Charon for passage across the Styx."

The Lord of Souls reached into the folds of his himation and flicked an obol with his thumb, the small coin rolling to a stop at the feet of Sisyphus. "There is your fee. We'll see that it reaches the Boatman."

Sisyphus swallowed, then composed himself quickly. "You are a fair god, Hades, and are as all-seeing with the souls of the dead as Zeus claims to be all-seeing with the living. Surely you know that I was wrongfully persecuted by him?"

Aidoneus remained silent.

"I was certain that there would be justice in _this_ court for a man who saved the daughter of one god from being ravished at the hands of another," he said. Sisyphus looked pointedly at Persephone. "But clearly, that is not to be. Gentle Queen, do you know why I was originally condemned to Tartarus? What set me on my course? I helped poor Asopus find his precious, missing daughter. When he found her underneath the King of the Gods, crying for help, the lowly river god reacted as any decent father would, and I was blamed. This was when I was young, before I learned the ways of the world— before I learned that there is no justice. Only obeisance and tyranny. If the roles were reversed, if I had helped Zeus save one of _his_ daughters from ravishment, I would be lauded as a hero and songs would be sung about me. Instead, I was condemned to the Pit— forced to take my fate into my own hands, which led to some… unfortunate circumstances. It would have been a different world, a better world, Aidoneus, had you drawn the right lot. But I couldn't imagine a realm such as this in worthier hands. If you are wise enough to decide in my favor, then I'll let you keep the Underworld when I overthrow Zeus."

Hades cleared his throat and turned to speak to Persephone. "You remember, my lady, on our journey to Tartarus when I showed you the fate of Salmoneus?"

She stared forward, a smirk threatening the corner of her mouth when she saw Sisyphus flinch. "I remember, my lord. The clatter he made in life, pretending to be my father, throwing thunderbolts and terrorizing his people, now echoes in his head unceasingly as he wanders the Fields of Punishment. He screams almost as loud as Ixion." She slowly turned to meet Aidoneus's gaze. "Dear husband, this cannot possibly be his brother, could it?"

The sorcerer king swallowed.

"One and the same, dear wife." They both turned back to face Sisyphus, their expressions unmoving and pitiless. "His father, a kinslayer, is in Tartarus for throwing his incest-born infant grandson to dogs, and then entreating his daughter, poor Canace, to kill herself. Another brother, Athamas, was driven to madness. His niece, Tyro— the rape of whom is one of the charges levied against this one— made the decision to kill her children before she took her own life. I am tempted to think that their entire bloodline runs with poison, and I will receive their children and children's children as guests of Tartarus as well. Now, this charlatan stands before us, declaring himself a god. Should we take pity on his madness, my queen, as we shall surely do when we finally receive Athamas? Or should we reunite this one with Salmoneus?"

"Salmoneus was a fool. I claimed his throne for a reason," Sisyphus said. "I care not that he suffers in Tartarus. It serves him right for trying to imitate Zeus so crudely. Not to mention his many slights against me."

Persephone thought about how Aidoneus had judged the Athenian magistrates. "How is Glaucus?"

"What?"

"How does Glaucus fare without his mother? He's just recently a man of fifteen, is he not? Surely he misses his mother, Merope— the wife you murdered to declare yourself an immortal before Ephyra?"

"She sacrificed _herself_ to our new order; to me. Willingly."

Aidoneus turned to his wife. "I am amused that this one thinks he can lie to us in our own realm. A place where every thought in his head could be on full display for all assembled if I chose to lay it bare."

"Ephyra was a pile of pig shit before I built that great city!" Sisyphus yelled; his eyes flashing deep blue. "Now our walls are impenetrable; our treasuries overflow with gold! Before the sea became thick with ice, our ships sailed to every port of the Mesogeios delivering the grain your mother still withholds, Kore!"

Persephone flinched and squeezed her husband's hand.

"Oh yes, little Queen, I know _exactly_ who you are. Kore. The lost daughter; the captive concubine, raped by the Unseen One day and night. That's what they say in Eleusis, at least— that you were ruined and soiled by Hades. Your mother now sits there as the self-appointed Queen of the Earth, giving their land grain as she decimates the rest of the earth. My people need me now more than ever! Is it fair to them for me, a savior and a living god of the Ephyreans, to die from something as trifling as an infection from a toothache?!"

Persephone willed her face to stillness, but his words bit hard. She sloughed off the baser insults, but felt her stomach twist knowing that her mother was starving the earth. What insults and wailing from the condemned must her husband have had to endure all this time? She turned to Aidoneus. "This one thinks he can sway us with pity and pride. That his shallow accomplishments mean anything after death; that his station is of any consequence. This one believes that his bones should not be returned to the earth from whence they were formed. To answer your question, my husband: no. I do not think we should take pity on him."

Her calm in the face of the condemned king's insults didn't go unnoticed. Aidoneus squeezed her hand until she looked into his cold eyes. They warmed only for her, for just a moment. Their first meeting in the dream came back to him— her voice and her words when she had challenged him. He knew now as he knew then that she was born for this. "Perhaps it is you who should deliver our judgment, my queen."

She turned her gaze to Sisyphus. "You stand before my husband Hades Isodetes, the great Leveler. Your wealth was vast, but your acts were vile. In utter futility, you tried to cheat my husband of your soul. From the moment you were born until the moment you died, Sisyphus, it belonged to him. And now you are here at last to return it. Salmoneus may have displeased the King of the Gods to earn his punishment. But anyone who cheats the Lord of Souls of his due should expect his fortunes to be grave."

A smile twisted Sisyphus's mouth as he stared at her, unmoved and silent. Persephone stood, and Aidoneus rose tall beside her.

"Abandon all hope Sisyphus, son of Aeolus and Enarete. For the murder of your wife, the violation of your niece, for offenses against my father, and offenses against my husband and myself, you will not be given the waters of the Lethe. In the sight of my husband Hades Aidoneus Chthonios, firstborn son of Kronos, I, Persephone Praxidike Chthonios sentence you to burn in Tartarus for all eternity as you burned Merope on the pyre. Thanatos and Hypnos, Minos and Rhadamanthys, will escort you to the Phlegethon. The Erinyes will cast you into the Pit where the Hundred Handed Ones will exact your punishment."

She spoke as his queen. Aidoneus felt warmth course through him at the sound of her voice. Thanatos and Hypnos grabbed Sisyphus roughly by each arm and left the room, followed by the Mycenaean judges. The same smirk still decorated Sisyphus's face. Rhadamanthys shut the heavy ebony doors behind them with a slight bow, a broad smile for his queen's first hearing hidden by his gray beard and lowered head.

When she heard the echo of the heavy door slam shut, Persephone sighed, relaxing her shoulders. She gazed up at Aidoneus, handsome with his crown of golden poplar, regal with his raven crested staff held in his right hand. A smile slowly spread over his face.

"That went well, didn't it?" she asked quietly.

He chortled and shook his head. "You were incredible; majestic. I couldn't have done better."

"Aidon, that's... high praise," she said, dropping her gaze. "This was still my first trial. Surely there's much I can improve on for next time."

In a rare sight for anyone but her, his smile widened, his teeth visible. "I was being serious." _You were truly born for this, my queen,_ he added to himself.

"So am I," she said earnestly, looking up at him.

He looked away and bit at his lip, playing over each detail of the judgment of Sisyphus, before turning his gaze back to her. Persephone shuddered as his pupils dilated and darkened.

"Well, after we've given our judgment to the condemned, it's customary to send only two escorts with them instead of four…"

"Oh," she said, her cheeks reddening. "Well… is it terrible of me that I was purposefully trying to clear out the throne room?"

Aidon drew closer to her. "And why would you want to do that, wife?"

Persephone couldn't hide her smile any more. Her husband closed in on her; the coy expression on her face was the only answer he needed. Aidoneus tilted her chin up with his left hand and bent forward to kiss her. She crushed her lips against his and jumped when she heard the staff clang against the dais after he dropped it to wrap his arms around her. She ran her hands up his bare arms, feeling his muscles cord under the gold bands. Persephone raised herself on tiptoe to lean closer to him. She canted her head and tasted him.

Aidon gripped her waist to press her closer, then grunted in discomfort when the heavy apron she wore slammed against him. He broke away from her for a moment, cursing. "Damn these ceremonial clothes!"

She grinned and unlatched the gold clasps at her shoulders and waist. The entire piece slumped loudly to the floor, a haphazard pile of red jewels and delicate gold chains strewn at their feet. He smiled and drew her in again, holding her against his body, feeling the heat growing between them.

"I'm glad I sent them all away," she whispered against his neck. She kissed him at the pulse point above his collarbone and felt him push aside the mantle she wore. He reached over the edge of her chiton to cup her breast, then pulled the nipple over the edge, licking his lips and dipping his head to taste her. She gently pried his hands off her. "Aidon, this is the throne room! What if someone walks in on us again?"

"Sweet one, Hermes… _unwisely_ disturbed us… but he's not part of our realm. I assure you, no one we rule over would be foolish enough to burst into any room where I am alone with you."

He looked down at her with an expression that someone unfamiliar with him would have mistaken for annoyance or frustration. And it was frustration, in part. He wanted her. He wanted every barrier standing between him and his entry into her body removed in that instant. He'd said as much amidst the heated words that had rolled off his tongue when he'd spoken to her in the language of those who worshipped her in Eleusis. Persephone teased him— dangerously stoking the raging fire. She moved her leg between his thighs and grazed past him again, listening as he hissed sharply at the contact. Persephone nipped at his jaw line, moving her hand down his stomach to splay her palm against his arousal.

Aidoneus exhaled sharply and spun her around, holding her from behind as he sat them down on his throne. He thrust his groin against her. Pinning her limbs to her sides with one arm wrapped around her waist, he firmly held her by the hips with the other.

"Are you regretting giving me a separate throne, my lord?"

He kissed her beneath her ear, her pulse fluttering under his lips. She squirmed on his lap when he lightly pulled at her earlobe with his teeth. "Now that you mention it…" He barely held back a laugh. "Can you imagine the look on my judges faces if we held court like _this_?"

"Aidon!" She giggled, half-heartedly slapping at his hands as he groped her breasts from behind and pulled her back against him. She felt him squeeze upward again, and their mirth faded back into desire. His arousal dug insistently into her rear as he nibbled at her earlobe and ran his thumbs over the hardened nipples ghosting through the front her chiton. Persephone gyrated against him until she felt him nestled between her cheeks through their clothing.

He pulled back and whispered softly in her ear, his voice vulnerable. "Would you consider letting me take you this way?"

He pushed up again to drive home the implication. She blushed and looked around. "Right now?"

"No, no no…" he soothed and lightly kissed her neck with a smile. "In our own bed, of course, with… careful preparation. Someday, when we're both thoroughly relaxed and able to go slowly."

Persephone's breath caught at his suggestion. His fingertips danced across the underside of one arm, causing her whole body to shiver and grind seductively against his once again. "I didn't know that interested you, husband…"

"Knowing you in every way possible is what interests me, wife." He lightly grazed her arm with his fingernails, until he found where she had jumped before. When he reached it, he was rewarded with another wiggle of her bottom against his groin. Heat pooled low in her belly, matching his heat below her.

Her legs shook and she turned to kiss him. He wrapped an arm around Persephone to support her, turning her further still until she pulled her feet up onto the hard ebony arm of his throne and sat sideways in his lap, mating her tongue with his. She broke away and leaned her forehead against his. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"I want to know you in every way possible as well," she whispered. He heatedly locked his lips against hers again. Persephone delighted in his taste until he broke off, breathing heavily. Hades grabbed one of her slender ankles before moving his hand up her leg, drawing a slow path inward. "Perhaps very soon we can—"

A bang on the door thundered through the quiet throne room. Both sides burst open with enough force to gutter the torches.

"My queen! Lord Hades!" Hypnos flew in, his silver wings beating furiously as he cleared the doorway and alighted in the center of the room, out of breath.

His eyes flared in anger as Persephone scrambled to get out of his lap. She stood awkwardly next to the throne, righting her clothes.

Hypnos brought his hands up as if to shield himself from Aidon's rage. "Aidoneus, please. I wouldn't have even dared to _knock_ on the door, much less come in, if it wasn't deadly serious!" Hypnos nodded to Persephone. "Forgive me, my queen. A thousand apol—"

"Say your piece and _get out_ , Hypnos!" he bellowed, his previously aroused mood stoking his anger. Aidoneus watched his friend cower and his wife jump at his voice and forced himself to calm down. "You can apologize for this incident later."

Hypnos took a deep breath. "He's gone."

" _What?!_ "

"Sisyphus escaped."

"That's not possible!"

"It gets worse. Aidon, my brother…" The silver haired god's lip quivered. "Minos and Rhadamanthys are with him, but…"

"Where are they?"

"The shores of the Cocytus. Aidon, we need you there. You'll want to bring the staff."

Aidoneus paled and stood up. He looked back to her contritely. "Persephone…"

"I'm coming with you," she replied. There would be time for apologies later.


	4. Chapter 3

While Hypnos went to find Nyx, Aidoneus and Persephone hurried down the staircases to the entrance of the palace. Without saying a word, he pulled her close against him and enveloped them both in dark smoke. They emerged from the ether at the farthest ends of the Fields of Asphodel, the darkness dissipating around them. Aidon grasped her hand and walked quickly toward the River of Lamentation, his long strides forcing her to walk briskly. The gray earth and flowering stalks became scattered and shorter as they went, then disappeared entirely, replaced by jagged rock.

Along the silent River Cocytus, black hooded shades stared into the waters, weeping despondently. The stench of the water made bile churn in Persephone's throat, bringing her back to the day she and her mother returned to Eleusis. Long ago, when Attica had gone to war and the fields of wheat were razed, Demeter had shielded her from the sight of crows picking apart the remains of horses and hoplite soldiers. But her mother couldn't conceal the acrid smell of blood and decay. It was as if the Cocytus had washed through those fields, and preserved all the foulness within its stagnant depths.

Wailing and cursing interrupted her morbid reverie. Just ahead, Thanatos writhed in pain, his wings beating incessantly against the ground like an injured bird.

Persephone picked up her skirts and quickened her pace, feeling sharp rocks abrade her ankles. She winced at the first scrape, then set her jaw against the pain. Aidoneus jogged next to her in long, heavy strides, his staff held at his side like a spear. She cried out in the direction of the judges. "Minos! What happened?"

The judge joined her, following as she ran to where the Minister of Death lay. "My queen," he said, out of breath, "we don't know!"

"What's wrong with Thanatos?"

"The Ephyrean was here one moment," Minos shuddered, "then the next, the chains…"

Persephone blanched as Thanatos turned toward her. _A master of sleight of hand…_

The manacles that once held Sisyphus's wrists were now on Thanatos's arms. The links of iron chain laced through flesh and bone, grotesquely exiting his skin on the other side. There was no blood, no other sign of injury; he was a god. But, there was pain. Against all instinct, she forced herself not to be sick, and bile that had been welling in her throat since she reached the shores of the Cocytus abated, replaced with empathy. The sight of her husband's friend, her friend, in such agony superseded the ghastly sight of the chains impaling his arms. "Thanatos! Stay still."

"My queen, you do _not_ need to see this!" he yelled out, turning away from her.

Aidoneus walked to him, his heavy staff thumping on the ground with each step. Persephone ran over to Thanatos and knelt down to cradle his head, narrowly avoiding a thrashing wing.

"Please," he said through gritted teeth, "Don't… This was my fault—"

"No. This wasn't," she said, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead with the cloth of her mantle.

"Sisyphus planned it all along," Hades snarled, speaking to Thanatos. "He spent the entire judgment distracting us. Throwing us off guard. I should have read his thoughts… I should have been reading them the whole time. I let this happen." He knelt next to Thanatos and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, my friend. This is going to hurt more than you can imagine."

"It already fucking hurts!" he screamed.

"What are you going to do?" Persephone said, looking up at her husband.

"Break the chains, pull them out," Aidon said quietly. He inspected the chains. "Most of them are missing…"

"Just do it already!" Thanatos gritted his teeth.

"You may want to look away—"

"No," Persephone said. She remembered from her youth when one of the Naiads had tended to another, removing a forgotten fish hook stuck deep in her heel. Persephone took the edge of her chiton and tore a strip of it away, wadding it up in her fist.

"What are you doing?" Thanatos said dizzily, the pain making him nauseous.

"Making sure you don't crack your teeth," she muttered, twisting it into a bit.

Aidoneus kept his voice calm and motions steady. "You will heal. But the pain—"

"Of course I'll heal! I'm a fucking _god_ , aren't I?!" He forced a smile around the pain.

Persephone twisted the wool again and put it between Thanatos's teeth. He looked up into her eyes. The mask of anger, his feigned mastery of the pain, melted into fear. His eyes widened in panic, a vulnerability he only allowed her to see for a moment. She stroked his forehead. "Just be still, Thanatos."

She held him and watched as Aidoneus rolled a small boulder over to where he lay.

"I thought nothing could break the Chains of Tartarus."

"Everything has a weakness," her husband said quietly, raising the raven standard. "Hold him steady!" he called out to Minos and Rhadamanthys.

Aidoneus draped the center of the chain over the boulder, stretching out Thanatos's arms. The judges gripped him at the elbows and held his wings while Persephone leaned his head in her lap. "It will be all right," she whispered to him.

"On three," Aidoneus said. Thanatos started breathing hard around the twisted wool, bracing himself. Persephone nodded. "One, two…"

The staff landed with a resounding crack, and Persephone flinched away from the noise, feeling the ground lurch and shake. Death bit down hard and screamed through his clenched jaw, his arms flailing, flinging Minos to the earth while Rhadamanthys desperately maintained his grip. The boulder beneath the chains was broken into rubble. She tried to calm Thanatos, and saw Minos grasp his free arm to still him. The chain lacing through his wrists burned red hot from where it had been struck. Persephone smelled seared flesh and tried to push it from her mind so she wouldn't retch. She focused on Thanatos's face again, wiping away a tear that trailed down from his right eye. "Thanatos. Please! Be still… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

A female hand appeared from behind her and rested on Thanatos's forehead. Persephone saw a beautiful, pale face framed in weightless black hair come into view beside her. The woman whispered to Thanatos. "Shhh…"

His head slumped to the side and his eyes shut. Thanatos stopped moving his wings and lay still, his breathing light. The strange goddess gently pulled the twisted wool from between his teeth. She hovered above Persephone, then moved as though she were swimming through the air to face the young goddess.

"You did nothing for which you should ever apologize, Aristi Chthonia," she said softly. "No matter what anyone tells you."

Aristi Chthonia. The name the House of Nyx and the Hundred Handed Ones called her. There was only one being this could be. Persephone kept Thanatos's head in her lap and bowed her head to the last of the Protogenoi. "Lady Nyx."

The elder goddess smiled and lightly lifted Persephone's chin until the Queen's blue gray eyes met her silver rimmed ones once more. "You never need bow before me, Queen of the Underworld," she said, smiling. Her face grew solemn again as she stroked Thanatos's unconscious forehead. "Especially not after showing such kindness to my son."

Hypnos alighted on the ground behind them. "Mother—"

"He'll be fine," she said, and caressed Thanatos's sleeping forehead again. "My poor, sweet boy…"

The Goddess of Night grasped Death's right arm in one hand before closing her eyes. The alabaster flesh on it disappeared for a moment and released a chain, the links falling neatly between the bones and onto the rocks below. She opened her eyes and his arm was made whole but for deep pits on his skin, the edges darkened where the broken chains had burned him.

"Hades…"

The bone of his left arm was squeezed within a link of chain. Aidoneus knelt down and stared at Persephone, his jaw set tight. _Just this once, my love, look away_ … his eyes seemed to say to her. She kept her gaze trained on his face as he focused once more on his task. Hades yanked the link out, snapping the bone in two as he did so. The sound made her stomach turn. Her husband winced as he pulled the metal away. Though he was unconscious, Thanatos jerked to the side, then stilled, his head held steady in Persephone's lap. Nyx patiently waited until the bone healed, knitting itself back together, before she released his arm. His scarred flesh appeared over it once more.

"We are all healing more slowly these days," she said, then looked to Hades. "Where is the rest of the chain?"

He sighed, frustrated. "Sisyphus stole it. I almost wonder now, Lady Nyx, if he allowed himself to be captured. The things he said at trial… If I had read his thoughts, none of this would have—"

"This is not your fault, Liberator," Nyx said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Nor yours, Persephone."

She gathered Thanatos's limp form in her arms, the fringes of the darkness that surrounded her rushing in around him. They gingerly touched Thanatos, the wavering tendrils drifting softly over his limbs as if to comfort him.

"You'll know what to do," she said to Aidon, pointedly.

"What do you mean?"

"That you'll know what to do," she repeated. Nyx looked back to Persephone. "The tidings Hecate brought to me were ill, indeed. We must hold strong together, now more than ever. They will look to you, Aristi Chthonia, for guidance." Nyx rose upward toward Erebus, carrying her son, until she disappeared into the mists that hung above the riverlands and the darkness beyond. Hypnos nodded quietly to Hades and Persephone, worry etched across his face, then followed his mother and brother into the fog.

Persephone turned to the others, her heart sinking under the weight of Nyx's words, and saw her husband staring at the ground, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a thin line. She walked over to him and laid her head against his chest. He brought an arm around her shoulders.

She looked up at him. "Has this—"

"No; never before."

"How did this happen?"

"I don't know," he said under his breath, looking out across the Cocytus and the shades weeping at its shores.

Persephone leaned into him. The pathways leading toward the palace from the marshlands of Acheron teemed with shades waiting to be judged. The emaciated, spectral forms desperately tore the asphodel roots from the gray earth and bit into them, heedless of the fact that whatever hunger they still felt was an illusion— a shadow of the manner in which they died. Their bellies were distended by starvation. Another boatload disembarked with Charon's guidance and walked solemnly toward the Trivium. She remembered what Kronos told her in the Pit and shuddered. Again, his terrible prophecy played out in her mind in all its vivid detail. Destruction, violation, rape, the end of all things…

Rules that bound the cosmos were bending, twisting, and disintegrating. The world above was breaking apart— and with it, she realized as ice poured down her back, the world below.

—

 **Author's Note:** Destroyer of Light _will debut in paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and CreateSpace, and in ebook through Kindle, Nook, iBooks, and Smashwords on __**March 20, 2016**_ _. Please visit_ **kata-chthonia dot com** _to order the last half of RoM as you read it here, but having gone through another round of editing and the addition of many new scenes that you didn't read in the original._

 _Thank you so much, everyone! And a special thanks to my Kickstarter supporters who made the paperback and gorgeous covers possible._

 _~ Rachel Alexander, aka Kata Chthonia_


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